


Old Wounds

by LoopsTheBirdbrain



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance, Slow Build, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26065216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoopsTheBirdbrain/pseuds/LoopsTheBirdbrain
Summary: A new storyline with some additional romance sprinkled in between everyone's favorite Turian and the Commander.
Relationships: Male Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	Old Wounds

What a time to have lived through.   
Years upon years of near-death endeavors and time spent clinically dead was more than many would experience through several lifetimes of existence. This was nothing new for the crew of the Normandy, and the constant strain of conflict still sent ripples throughout the crew’s morale. While they were no strangers to the horrors of the deepest sectors of the mass relays, it would be an outright lie to say that it didn’t affect them all a little differently with each defiant push into the farthest tests of their character. Everyone was on edge, but some were just better at hiding their strain than others. Some buried themselves in their work, others took the time to spend in their personal quarters, enjoying what little downtime they could to stave off the horrors of their campaigns alongside their appealingly fearless commander. They would have followed him into the jaws of hell thrice over, and many of them had. The natural charisma and bravery he exuded was a testament to his ironclad will, and his courage stood strong through all tests of time.

However, what many didn’t know is that he was affected all the same by the near-constant barrage of combat, seeing firsthand what his enemies were capable of, and more so how they had grown in influence before they had made their footholds in the Galaxy. Shepherd pondered this as he sat at the desk within the captain’s quarters, the gentle hum and ever so subtle glow of the fish tank he had tirelessly filled over the time at the helm. 

This comforting silence was, however, a double-edged sword. The ambiance of the ship’s hums and the artificial glow of the technology that bathed the room had once again left him alone with his thoughts. The travesties and atrocities he’d lived through were more than enough to break any mere man, and yet here he was. What would have been suicidal missions, he had led with confidence, knowing that the only other alternative was the crushing defeat of all life as the council knew it. Everyone relied on him, and he’d sooner see himself collapse under overwhelming odds before he gave in to the stress. It was these moments that made him thankful for his crew. More than just a collection of some of the most talented individuals he had ever known, they were more precious to him than they would ever know. 

Even in this moment, when he was near his breaking point, he’d never let them see him in this state. The thought of their confidence in him being shattered, watching him break like many others would have before him was a scenario he couldn’t bear to imagine. They came first. They had to. Heroic sacrifices and clinched victories were paramount to the continuation of his crew, and he wasn’t about to lose them again. With a poured glass in hand, he took a hearty swig of the remaining Serrice Ice brandy he had shared with the resident medical officer. The appealing burn of the exotic liquor served as a reminder of a time where things seemed a little more simple. A time in which reminiscing like some old friends on shore leave swapping war stories was the atmosphere they shared.   
He chuckled to himself as he set down the pale blue glass, leaning over towards his terminal as he pondered who he would call up to share in this comfortable moment. Names circled through his head like the old Rolodexes of centuries ago, before finally settling on an old friend. Someone who had been there with him from the beginning of it all. Through thick and thin they had fought alongside one another and come out the other side with some literal and figurative scars, but that never stopped either of them. Laughing it off with a well-timed joke or some much-needed stress relief of dubious regulatory compliance on the citadel. Their spirits were never broken in those moments.   
“Chicks dig scars,” he thought to himself with a hearty laugh as he leaned on the paging button to call for this particular crew member. They all knew him well despite his propensity to keep to himself in the forward gun battery. Calibrations. Calibrations. Calibrations. Always going on about some meager percentage point gain in their combat efficiency. Concern for their combat effectiveness was more than welcome, but it was clear there were things in the back of his mind that went further than skin deep. Their time spent watching his home planet burn had dug its thorns in deeper than he could possibly imagine, and even more so the thought of leaving earth behind for Shepherd. Military pride and more than several years with Citadel Security had done a good job of hiding the anguish that plagued his soul. While admirable that he put the mission at hand above certain things, it made the entire crew concerned for what he was bottling up beneath that battered body.

The terminal chirped to life as he heard the familiarly gravelly voice on the other side of the comms. “Shepherd. Need me for something?” Garrus asked, just as he always did. 

Shepherd thought for a moment on his response before finally replying. “Garrus. Have you got a few moments? I need you on the bridge for something.”

The next words out of his mouth were so routine, Shepherd swore he had practiced them for hours at a time and rattled them off before he even heard the question. “Can this wait? I’m in the middle of some calibrations.” 

With a shake of his head, Shepherd barely managed to stifle a chuckle beneath his breath. Same old same old. “This is important. Let EDI take a look over some of your notes for improvements. I’m sure the forward battery can take a few moments of your absence.” He replied before he heard the sigh come through the other end. 

“Fine, fine - I suppose I have some time. I’ll be right up.” He said, seemingly finishing the sigh of resignation he had lodged in his chest. 

Not more than a few minutes later he heard the knock at the door and before pressed down the button to allow the doors to open with its swift mechanical swoosh of servos. In stepped Garrus.

“Shepherd. Need me for something?” he asked with an all to routine cadence. 

“Garrus. I’m glad you could make it up here. I was starting to think I lost you in those simulations down there on the deck. Wanted to check in on you, and more so share a drink. You’re not going to make me finish this brandy by myself, are you?” The commander laughed as he raised a glass to show its contents.

With a pained laugh from those still-healing scars, the war-wounded Turian cracked a slight smile. “Well, you know I could never resist a drink, Shepherd,” he said before silently cursing the commander for making him laugh knowing how fresh the turian’s bandages were. “I suppose I could settle down for a drink,” Garrus remarked. “Just try to keep the laughing to a minimum, I can’t risk undoing Dr. Chakwas’s work. Speaking of which, isn’t that a bottle of her favorites? I’m not sure I can drink that in good conscience.” He laughed once more, gingerly nursing his injured mandibles before finally sitting down on the plush couch’s cushions. His near-collapse left his battered body relaxing, his tensed muscles finally releasing what tension they had as the soft cushions nearly enveloped him. 

“What’s the occasion commander? I don’t recall any celebrations any time soon. Not that I really need a reason to enjoy a good drink.” Garrus continued with a chuckle. 

“Well my Turian friend, there’s always a reason to celebrate when I’m in good company, and besides, it’s been far too long since we’ve had the chance to share a drink since we were on Omega,” Shepherd smirked with a raise of his glass. “Here’s to the crew of the Normandy, and more so to those I’ve grown fond of over the years,” Shepherd smirked, taking a sip of the ice-cold liquid to his lips. With a nervous chuckle, the former C-Sec officer did the same, gently adjusting his scarred mandibles to let the chilled liquor wash over his old wounds. 

“Hear hear!” Shepherd cheered, knocking back the glass with similar fervor. While the two of them were no lightweights, the exotic nature of the cocktail was no slouch and hit the two of them like a freight train, leaving the two of them nearly recoiling at the jolt of the welcome burn in their throats. 

“Oh commander, now I’m just thinking you’re going to spoil me with things like this. It’s been far too long since we’ve been to a proper bar. Don’t go giving me any ideas about working up the price tag of my tastes.” The Turian finally said with a shake of his crested head and a hearty laugh. “Well, you said it Garrus. Not me. Even if you do deserve a bit of stress relief every now and then. I’d hate to think you’re stuck on that battery all day without a moment to rest your head. Never want you to feel like you’ve got to bury yourself down there. I’m always here if you need someone to lend an ear.” The commander beamed.

Setting the empty glass back down on the metal table, Garrus leaned back in his seat, still somewhat recovering from the first taste of alcohol he’d had in a while. The air hung heavy in an uncharacteristic silence for a moment before he finally spoke again. “Thank you, commander. There’re not many people still out there that I can trust, and I’m lucky to call you one of them…” he said with a heavy sigh as the commander took up a seat next to him on the couch. 

“Same goes for you Garrus. There’s no one I’d rather have follow me into the jaws of hell. Every time we’ve come back from the brink, you’ve been there, and for that, there’s no one else I’d rather have by my side.” Shepherd replied, hoping to keep the awkward silences to a minimum as he placed a hand gingerly on his comrades battle-hardened shoulders. While neither of them wanted to admit it, their hearts each jumped a bit in their chests as his hand made contact, an unusual sense of vulnerability washing over each of them in the quiet ambiance of the vessel. 

With as casual of a motion as he could muster, Shepherd felt his hand working its way over Garrus’ back and toward the opposite shoulder, pulling his comrade ever so slightly closer as he rapidly felt nerves wash over his entire body once more. In turn, the typically steadfast Turian felt the grip on his empty glass between his fingers tighten, his entire body tensing at the sudden display of affection. 

With an awkward clearing of his throat, Garrus finally broke the silence with a shaky voice the word caught in the web of his mind - “Ahem… Um, Shepherd. I think I might need a refill on my drink.” He murmured, shifting in his seat as he gazed to meet the commander's gaze. 

“Happy to do so Garrus. This bottle isn’t going to finish itself after all…” Shepherd returned with a nervous cadence as he advanced his hand toward the bottle alongside his companion - Their hands met on the side of the bottle with a palpable heat. Flinching suddenly Garrus moved his hand off the side, his breath caught in his chest once more, the feeling of vulnerability washing over him. 

Feeling his ever-vigilant guard slipping from his mind, he could finally relax a bit in the presence of his company, confident enough to speak his mind. “If I didn’t know any better Shepherd, I’d think you were flirting with me…” he said, nearly choking on his words as he watched endless responses play out his mind as he spoke. 

“Well… that all depends Garrus... is it working?” 

The Turian sat stunned for a moment, the words a flashbang reverberating in his head as Shepherd poured them each another glass of cyan liquor. 

“I… uh. It’s uh…” he stammered in response, barely able to pull the words from his thoughts as his glass nearly shattered between his hands from the pressure. “I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol, but…” he continued, his heart fluttering in his chest in unison with the once stoic company he shared. 

“It’s alright Garrus. You don’t have to say anything. We can just share this moment…” Shepherd said as they slowly sipped from their glassware, inching ever so slowly closer, savoring the awkward feeling on Shepherd’s hand one his shoulder. 

With a nervous laugh, the Turian finally spoke up again to break the silence. “To think of all the missions we’ve been on together, and yet nothing has made me feel what I am right now. The nerves are buried deep Shepherd, and yet, this moment has me more nervous than any of our previous missions against impossible odds…” 

Placing a finger softly to his scarred mandibles, Shepherd quieted the conversation with a whispered, “shh,” Garrus now letting his crested head rest comfortably on the commander’s shoulder with a smile. “This is all new to me as well… I’ve never felt this nervous about anything before. We’re supposed to be the brave ones and yet here we are. Perhaps it’s because it gives me something that I’d be terrified to lose…” he mumbled. Words caught in his chest like caltrops. 

The only response Garrus could muster was a startled gasp followed by his comforting gravel-filled voice, “Shepherd… You’ve always been someone I care about… I just never knew it would be like… like this…” he said with a gulp. “I feel like such an amateur…” 

The once full bottle now lay long since empty as they shared their embrace in the serene hums of the ship’s engine, their awkward glances in one another’s direction frequently locking for a few moments before their faces collectively flushed crimson. “You really are different Garrus… This feels. It feels…” before he could even finish, the commander’s words were interrupted by a sudden motion from the companion he shared his company with. 

A slow lean in, their faces inching agonizingly closer with each passing moment as time seemed to move in slow motion before finally meeting, liquor softened lips locking with the bandaged mandibles. Shepherd’s eyes widened immediately before fluttering shut at the touch of his smooth lips, Garrus’ gloved hands now resting on the back of his head with a delicate grasp, what felt like steam leaking from the corners of their mouths. What felt like an eternity seemed to pass in that moment, their passionate embrace finally realized as they pulled ever closer, holding on like it was the last time they would ever meet. 

With a final break, Garrus’ pale blue tongue left his mouth as they shared gasping breaths from the duration of their locked lips. 

“I hope that answers your question Commander…” Garrus finally panted through ragged breaths. 

It was Shepherd’s turn to be dumbstruck by the events that just transpired, nearly sputtering his response before getting his breaths back under control, the small string of saliva dripping from his lips. “Careful Garrus… a guy could fall for something like that…” he replied with a sultry chuckle. “Well, I guess we better let you get back to the main battery, wouldn’t want EDI asking any questions.” He said with a laugh before she chimed in to break the moment. 

“Don’t worry commander, this entire interaction has been recorded for my review.” She said cheerfully as he nearly jumped from his position at her sudden interjection. 

“You better keep this under wraps EDI, or I’ll see to it that your times with Joker get recorded too!” he shouted, barely able to keep from keeping his cheeks burning.


End file.
